


How Sirius Black Ran Away From Home

by KTook



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Families of Choice, Gen, Running Away, Sirius has no idea how to exist in the muggle world, The Marauders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:32:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7565548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KTook/pseuds/KTook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the summer when Sirius has had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sirius took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the grotesque memorial on the wall. Regulus, coming down the stairs, managed to make way just in time. “What have you done now?” he called after his older brother, who had now reached the top of the staircase.

Sirius didn’t reply and slammed his bedroom door shut behind him. He leaned heavily on the wood and gasped for air. Slowly, he let himself sink down until he was sitting on the floor. _I can’t take it anymore_ , he thought, _I can’t, I can’t!_ He turned his head, listening at the door. He heard a quiet, muffled voice, then another, shrill and unpleasant. That must be Regulus asking their mother what had happened.

Without doubt, she would twist the truth so that he, Sirius, was to blame.

“Well, I’m not!” he said loudly. Tears stung in his eyes, and he buried his head in his arms. “I’m not,” he whispered. _I’m not like them. I don’t belong here._

Sirius sniffed. _I want to go home._

But he wouldn’t be able to return to Hogwarts for another five weeks.

Swearing loudly, Sirius banged his fist on the ground in a sudden well-up of anger. Pain shot through his arms, but he didn’t care. He used it to fuel his frustration, jumping to his feet and grabbing the delicate jug on the nightstand. It was made of paper-thin porcelain and decorated with an elaborate, green ornament that had an uncanny resemblance to snakes. With a loud roar, Sirius flung it into the big Gryffindor coat-of-arms, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. Sirius took the glass that had been standing next to the jug, and it, too, met its end on the golden lion’s face.

Panting, Sirius stood in the middle of his room and stared at the mess he had made.

“What has master _done_?” a high, shocked voice asked behind him. 

Sirius spun around. It was Kreacher, the house-elf.

“What are you doing here?” Sirius snapped.

“The Mistress has ordered Kreacher to look where the noise comes from,” Kreacher whispered. “And Kreacher has to discover that young master Sirius has broken his mistress’ favourite jug!”

“Why did she put it in my room in the first place, then?” Sirius retorted.

Kreacher didn’t reply. He went over to the heap of shards and started to pick them up, but Sirius leapt over to him and seized the house-elf’s little hands. “Leave it!” he snarled into his face.

“But if Kreacher brings the shards to his mistress, she will be able to repair it!” Kreacher screeched and reached for another piece of broken porcelain.

“I said, leave it!” Sirius bellowed, grabbed the elf by the scruff of his neck, opened the door, and threw him outside. “And don’t come into my room ever again, do you understand?”

Kreacher’s face was contorted with loathing and disgust, but he nodded, and through gritted teeth, he said, “yes, master.”

Sirius slammed the door shut again. Fuming, he looked around for something else to break, but the jug had been the only thing he hadn’t put there himself.

He would never, ever lay a finger on his Gryffindor decorations – he would rather be tortured by the Cruciatus curse – and the Sticking Charms he had used on the photographs and pictures on the walls were strong enough to hold them up for a hundred years. He looked at the big picture of the huge, jet-black motorbike he had hung right in the middle. _One day_ , he thought, _I’ll get one just like that_.

He let his gaze sweep over the bikini-clad Muggle girls, but only furtively; he had nothing in spare for them, and had only put them there to spite his parents. 

Finally, he looked at the brand-new picture of himself and his best friends.

It had been James’ idea, because until that point, they hadn’t had a photograph with all four of them, and so he had asked a fellow Gryffindor to take it during the last days of the previous school year.

Sirius could hear him now, as he had given each of them the now framed pictures.

“So we don’t forget my good looks even when we’re old and grey,” he had said with a laugh.

“What good looks?” Sirius had retorted. 

They had laughed together, heartily, easily, without a single worry in sight.

And now, Sirius was stuck in this big, cold house again, with only a photograph of his friends to keep him company.

A flash of determination shot through him. He’d had enough. There was nothing keeping him here. 

Sirius marched over to his bed, dropped to his knees and poked around until his fingers brushed the soft fabric of the rucksack he had stuffed down there. He pulled it out and peered inside. It contained a spare set of robes, some biscuits, a half-empty water bottle and his Muggle money savings – for the motorbike. _Suppose I have to make a few sacrifices_ , he thought with a sigh. He took a few notes out and counted them. Was fifty pounds enough for a train ticket, he wondered? He wished Remus was here. Remus would know. He always did.

He decided to take all of the Muggle money he had, just in case. He looked around, wondering what else he would need. A handful of clothes, definitely… maybe a spell book and one for potions – you never knew. Sirius didn’t care much for Potion Class at school, but he was good enough. He knew he had a collapsible cauldron here somewhere – one of the few useful presents from his family. He considered taking more food with him, but decided against it. If he got hungry along the way, he could always buy something – or steal in his Animagus form.

Sirius looked around again. He had to plan carefully; out in the Muggle world, he wouldn’t be able to use magic – plus, as he was underage, he still had the Trace on him, and he didn’t fancy giving his position away should his family come looking for him.

For a second or two, he wondered if they really would, or if they would simply burn his name off the family tree tapestry.

Sirius shook his head, trying to clear his head, and went back to packing. It didn’t matter.

By the time night was falling, Sirius’ rucksack contained spare clothes, a water bottle, a package of biscuits, his collapsible cauldron, a heap of Muggle paper money (two hundred and ten pounds, and he had no idea how much that was in Galleons), his quills, ink, and parchment, some basic potion ingredients, his Chocolate Frog cards, a pocket knife, and finally, wrapped in his softest cloak, the two-way mirror and the photograph of his friends. While he was strapping the sleeping bag he had bought when they had gone camping some time ago on top of the rucksack, Sirius went through the plan he had come up with.

With a little luck, his family wouldn’t notice at once that he had gone; they would probably assume he was ‘brooding’ as always. Knowing that he would need to go by train, he didn’t want to leave too late. He would slip out shortly after dinner, when Regulus would play the piano in the drawing room for their parents.

Sirius pulled the straps as tight as he could, put his wand in his trousers’ waistband, and waited, his heart pounding.

Finally, he heard the first crystal-clear notes from the concert grand downstairs as Regulus ran his fingers over the keyboard, warming himself and the instrument up.

This was it. Sirius put his jacket on, tip-toed to the window, and opened it. He swung one leg over the windowsill and froze. Regulus had stopped playing.

Sirius knew very well that his younger brother, having finished with his warm-ups, was simply arranging his music sheets to truly begin, but nevertheless, his heart felt as if it was determined to break out of his ribcage.

A wave of relief washed over him when Regulus started to play again. Sirius swung his other leg outside. Sitting on the windowsill, he hesitated for a moment, basking in the sensation of his freedom right in his grasp. He smirked. Then he turned around and began to climb down the front of 12 Grimmauld Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 will come up soon.  
> Comemnts are appreciated :)  
> (also Sirius is ace af fight me)


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn’t worried about any Muggles seeing him; his father had placed so many protective charms on the house that it was now hidden to their eyes. What concerned him much more was, for one thing, how unexpectedly heavy his rucksack was; it was weighing him down and making it very hard to keep balance. The other thing was if he would make it past the drawing room’s window without being seen. He looked down to find new footing, the quick, merry melody of Regulus’ piano ringing in his ears. It was a warm summer night, and the window was open. Sirius lowered himself down carefully, always checking twice before setting his foot somewhere. If he made the slightest noise, it was all over.

It took him all of Regulus’ first piece to get level with the drawing room. When it ended, Sirius froze, clinging to the wall like an oversized spider.

“Shall I play another one?” he heard Regulus ask.

“But of course, my dear,” their mother’s voice replied. “Unless you’re too tired.”

“No, not at all.” Regulus’ laughter drifted out to Sirius, high and sparkling. “What should I play?”

“How about something of Aradacio’s?” their mother suggested.

Sirius pursed his lips. Aradacio was a composer famous for beautiful, but nearly impossibly difficult pieces. When they had been on better terms, Regulus had complained to Sirius about it more than once.

“Yes, why not?” Sirius heard his brother’s voice agree happily. He rolled his eyes.

The music started again, heavier this time, with a slower rhythm. Sirius carefully continued his way down.

Suddenly, the ledge he was holding on to gave way with a loud crack. Sirius couldn’t stifle a yelp of panic as he fought for balance.

The music stopped abruptly. “What was that?” Regulus shouted.

Sirius clutched a window frame and clung to it, pressing against the wall with bated breath.

“What is it, dear?” his mother’s voice asked.

“I heard something,” Regulus replied.

Sirius screwed his eyes shut. _Please don’t come looking, please don’t come looking, please don’t come looking!_

“Regulus, dear, it was probably just a cat,” his mother said. “Come, play on!”

The seconds stretched on for hours.

Then the music picked up again.

Sirius allowed himself a silent sigh of relief. From now on, he tested every ledge before putting any of his weight on it.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally put his foot down on the pavement. He staggered back on wobbly legs. His arms were burning. 

But he had made it. By Merlin’s hat and shabby coat, he had made it!

Sirius bit his lips to stop himself from laughing out loud, grinning broadly. “I made it,” he whispered, “I made it!” He looked up at the façade of 12 Grimmauld Place, chuckling. In a fit of foolish recklessness, he raised his arm and waved. “Good riddance!” he said quietly. Then he spun around and ran away as fast as he could.

For a long time, the drumbeat of his feet on the ground was all that mattered, carrying him further away from the detested place with every step. He only slowed down when his lungs were screaming, begging for air. He stopped, panting and clutching at a stitch in his side, but giggling madly. “Free at last!” he said loudly.

He became aware of his rucksack weighing heavily down on his shoulders. Sirius walked over to a low wall and sat down, putting the rucksack between his feet

As he got his breath back, the worries returned as well.

So he had escaped from home.

But what now?

He had packed so that he would be able to live a few days out in the open, but now that he actually considered it, he realised he didn’t much like it. He would need to find a place to stay. But where? A Muggle hotel? The Leaky Cauldron?

A cold breeze picked up, making Sirius shiver. He pulled his jacket closer around him. It was a biker’s jacket, made from black leather – a birthday present from his friends.

“Remus had the idea,” James had explained when Sirius had tried it on, “and then we all pooled together.”

“I don’t know if it’s appropriate,” Remus had added, “given you don’t have motorbike yet, but…”

Remus had never had a chance to finish the sentence, because Sirius had embraced him, almost beside himself with happiness, and then he had hugged Peter and James, too.

James had laughed, first ruffling Sirius’ long hair, and then hugging him back.

“Happy birthday, Padfoot, dear friend,” he had whispered in Sirius’ ear.

And suddenly, Sirius knew where he could go.

Hogwarts might be out of reach for now, but in the end, Sirius knew that his real home would always be where-ever his friends were.

His first impulse was to go to Remus’ place, because he had been there more often, but then he remembered it would be a full moon soon; the Lupins would be stressed out enough already without Sirius suddenly showing up. And he had no idea where Peter lived.

So James’ house it was, then. James wouldn’t even ask any questions.

Sirius stood and threw the rucksack back over his shoulder. He tipped his head back to look at the nightly sky.

There was the moon, almost round; his father’s namesake, Orion; and a little aside from its belt, glinting the brightest of them all, Sirius itself. He couldn’t find Regulus, however; he supposed it was too late in the season.

Sirius sniffed. Then he tore his gaze away and made his way towards the train station.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I wrote the entirety of this in June 2015. It's roughly 6,000 words long.  
> I'll upload Chapter 3 on the 28th.  
> Comments and Kudos are nice.


	3. Chapter 3

 He reached the station about fifteen minutes later. Despite the late hour, it wasn’t completely deserted; tired-looking people were sitting around, clutching coffees and waiting for their trains. Sirius swallowed and squeezed the straps of his rucksack. He had absolutely no idea what to do. Why hadn’t he ever asked Remus how all the Muggle stuff worked?

_Get yourself together_ , he thought angrily. _You managed a lot tonight already, you can do this, too._ He turned slowly on the spot, until he spotted one of the few lit information booths.

Sirius straightened himself, shook the hair out of his eyes and briskly walked over to the booth.

He cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

The woman in the booth looked up from the book she was reading. “Yes?” she asked. “How can I help you?”

“I’d like a ticket, please,” he said, and told her the name of the small West-England town where the Potters lived.

“You’re lucky,” the woman said after she had checked a register. “There’s a direct connection leaving in only half an hour.”

“Great!” Sirius said, smiling at her. He took his rucksack off. “How much would that be?”

“Twenty pounds, please.”

He rummaged around until he had the right amount together.

“Your train will depart from platform ten,” the woman said, handing him his ticket.

“Ten and what?” Sirius asked.

The woman blinked. “Just… ten.”

Only then did Sirius remember that Muggles used integrals to number their platforms. “All right, thank you,” he said, smiled his brightest smile and walked away.

At this hour, nearly all of the train’s compartments were empty. Sirius opened the first he found, threw his rucksack on the seats and slumped down next to the window. He only now realised how tired he was. His feet were throbbing from walking so much, his back ached from carrying the heavy rucksack, and his arms still hurt from the climb down the front of the house. Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes. He barely noticed when the train started to rumple out of the station and into the night. 

Sirius sighed, slowly drifting into a doze, the click-a-clack of the rails lulling him to sleep.

“Oi, lad, wake up.” Someone shook his shoulder. “I need to see your ticket.”

Sirius blinked, lifting his head. “Sorry about that,” he said groggily to the conductor and pulled the ticket out of his jacket pocket. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the conductor muttered and punctured Sirius’ ticket. “I’d fall asleep right now if I’d be giv’n the chance.”

Sirius took the ticket back with a tired smile. The conductor narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, lad,” he said slowly, “how old’re you?”

“Sev… eighteen, I’m eighteen,” Sirius replied, remembering just in time that Muggles came of age a year later than wizards.

The conductor looked at him. Sirius returned the gaze, unblinking. 

“All right, lad,” the conductor finally said. “I’m not gonna ask any questions. Enjoy your trip, get some sleep, I’ll make sure to wake you when we reach your stop.”

“Thank you,” Sirius said, but the conductor was already pulling the compartment door shut again.

Sirius’ stomach rumbled loudly. Yawning, he opened the rucksack, looking for the biscuits. He pushed a cloak aside, and as he did so, the two-way mirror fell into his hands.

_Maybe I should warn James_ , he suddenly thought. He checked that no-one stood outside the compartment, then he whispered, “Prongs.”

Nothing happened.

“James,” Sirius tried again.

Still nothing.

Sirius swallowed. Of course nothing happened, it as the middle of the night, James was very likely fast asleep. And even if he wasn’t, he probably didn’t carry his counter piece around all the time.

With a sigh, Sirius wrapped the mirror in the cloak again. 

He didn’t notice the hazel eyes and the untidy mass of dark hair flash up on its silver surface.

Sirius found the package of biscuits and opened it. The biscuit was dry and a bit stale, but better than nothing. He washed it down with a swig from his water bottle, and took another biscuit, staring into the night.

It felt strange to sit on a train by himself. If he closed his eyes, he could see James and Peter playing wizard chess across from him, and feel Remus sitting with his back on Sirius’ shoulder, reading a book.

For a few moments, he relished in the imagined rustle of paper and commands for the chess pieces. Then he opened his eyes again, and the dream bubble popped.

He wasn’t on the Hogwarts Express. His friends weren’t with him.

Rain began to splatter against the window, joining the rhythm of the rails.

Sirius fought the urge to close his eyes. He was on the run, he needed to stay awake, to stay alert, or his family would find him. But he was tired, so very tired… _I’ll close them for a second,_ Sirius thought. _Just one second… just… a tiny moment…_

His chin fell onto his chest and he was fast asleep.

The train rattled steadily on through the night, carrying Sirius away from his family and towards his best friend, towards warmth and light.

The conductor stayed true to his word. About two hours later he came into Sirius’ compartment and shook him awake. “Wake up, lad, we’re almost there,” he said.

Sirius opened his eyes, blinking against the light. He didn’t remember what he had dreamt, but it left him with a cold, hopeless lump in his chest. A single tear clung to the corner of his right eye, and he wiped it away. “Thanks for waking me,” he said to the conductor.

“No problem, lad,” the conductor replied and winked at him.

Sirius smiled and got his things together. By the time the train came into the station, he was waiting at the door. He got out, looked left, then right. It was raining faintly, barely more than a drizzle. Sirius shook his tousled hair out of his eyes. 

He didn’t have the faintest clue where James’ house was. He had been there once or twice, but that had been years ago.

But instead of resigning, Sirius took a deep breath and walked down the road to the right. 

_Here comes the next challenge,_ he thought, grimly determined. _This town can’t be that big._

But after half an hour of aimlessly walking around, Sirius realised it could. Nothing was even in the slightest way familiar.

He rounded a corner and found himself in the town square, just as the church bell chimed two o’clock.

Sirius turned on the spot, fighting the urge to give up. Even though he’d had some sleep on the train, he was exhausted. His rucksack seemed to get heavier with every minute. _Maybe,_ he though tiredly, _I should turn into Snuffles and sleep under that bench._

He stumbled towards it, but after a mere two steps, he stopped dead.

“Look at yourself!” he said aloud. “Pathetic! Utterly pathetic!” He pulled the straps of his rucksack tighter. “I will find Prongs’ home and if it’s the last thing I do!”

He chose a street at random and marched down along it.

The pavement was seamed by streetlamps, casting yellow cones of light, illuminating the raindrops. Sirius scanned the rows of houses, searching for something familiar. He didn’t find anything. The rain got heavier, and soon Sirius was drenched to the bone. Shivering, he ruffled his hair and wrapped his arms around himself. He hunched his shoulders, and walked on.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me smile.  
> Chapter four will be uploaded on the first of August.  
> Spoiler, that't going to be the one where James finally appears.


	4. Chapter 4

 Some time later, Sirius reached the town square again. He’d been going in a circle. By now, it was pouring. Water was running down his neck and dripping into his eyes. He was shaking uncontrollably. Sirius bit his lip. He didn’t want to give up, but he had to be realistic. He was so cold he feared he wouldn’t be able to go on for much longer.

 _Just one more street_ , he thought _, one more, then I’ll look for shelter as Snuffles._

He picked the street opposite the last one and listened to the chatter of his teeth as he walked from streetlamp to streetlamp. He was blinking rapidly, both because the water ran into his eyes and because his lids were drooping.

Suddenly, he thought he heard someone calling his name. He spun around, but no matter how hard he stared, he couldn’t make anything out in the grey curtain of rain.

He turned around again, but glanced over his shoulder. 

_Bang._

Sirius let out a surprised cry of pain and stumbled a few paces back, rubbing his forehead. He had walked right into a lamppost. Sniffing, Sirius looked around. 

The house right next to him caught his attention. A window on the upper floor was wide open. Sirius was instantly reminded of countless arguments between James and Remus in their dorm room at Hogwarts, because James liked to sleep with the window open, while Remus preferred it to be closed.

Sirius frowned, looking at the window. Then he slowly turned his head to read the name on the letterbox.

_Potter._

He stared at it, a dull feeling of surprise throbbing in his chest. Then he had to stifle a sob of relief.

He was there. He was safe.

He had made it, and all by himself.

Sirius grinned, slicking his wet hair back. Then he picked up a rock and threw it against the window.

 _Tick_.

He waited. When nothing happened, he picked up another one, a little bigger this time.

 _Thuck_.

Nothing.

“Dammit, Prongs, wake up,” Sirius muttered, throwing another rock. And then a fourth. And then a fifth.

He was beginning to run out of rocks when suddenly, the lights went on in James’ room. Sirius quickly threw another rock, just to be on the safe side.

“Merlin’s… who’s there?” James leaned out of the window, squinting into the rain.

Sirius looked up at him from under the streetlamp. He couldn’t speak.

James didn’t make a sound of surprise. He didn’t ask any questions. He vanished from the window, and mere seconds later, the front door opened.

“Padfoot?” James said.

In that moment, all was lost. All the anxiety, all the tiredness came crashing down on Sirius and turned his legs to jelly. “Oh, God, James!” he sobbed and flung his arms around him.

James hugged him back without a moment’s hesitation. Sirius cried into James’ shoulder, out of exhaustion, out of relief, it didn’t matter. James rubbed his back. “It’s all right, Padfoot, my friend,” he murmured. “It’s all right.” He didn’t care that his pyjamas were getting wet, he just held Sirius up and waited for his tears to ebb away.

Finally, Sirius straightened up, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He opened his mouth, but James interrupted before he could say a word. 

“Don't you apologize for something that's not your fault!”

Sirius managed a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Got it.”

James grinned, ruffling his hair. “You’re soaking wet,” he said matter-of-factly and stepped aside. “Come in, quickly, or you’ll catch your death.” He took Sirius rucksack and helped him peel off the drenched leather jacket and led him into the living room. Embers were glimmering in the fireplace, and with a few nimble movements, James kindled them into a nice, strong fire. He hung Sirius’ jacked in front of it, talking over his shoulder. “You’d better put some dry clothes on. Do you have any in that backpack of yours or d’you want some of mine?”

“Got some of my own,” Sirius replied.

“All right.” James turned around. “Wait here, I’ll get some blankets and put the kettle on.”

Sirius didn’t protest. For one, he knew it was futile, two, he was too tired, and three, he was still bitterly cold. He took his pyjamas out of his rucksack and quickly changed into them. He was buttoning his shirt just as James returned, laden with a heavy down quilt, several lighter blankets, and a towel. He dropped the blankets in front of the fireplace and threw the towel over Sirius’ head, before he turned on the spot and marched back into the kitchen without a word.

Sirius rubbed his hair dry and sat down, pulling the heavy quilt around himself. He sighed contentedly. He loved down quilts. They made him feel as if he slept in a cloud.

James came back, carrying two cups of tea. He handed one to Sirius and then sat wordlessly down next to him. Sirius lifted the quilt so they could share it.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

Sirius eyelids were drooping, but he forced them open. He sipped on his tea. It tasted absolutely wonderful, and he felt the warmth spread in his stomach. Snuggling closer to James, he finally closed his eyes. Within seconds, he was fast asleep, his head on his friend’s shoulder.

James took Sirius’ cup before he spilled any of the tea and put another two logs into the fire.

Sirius’ rucksack had fallen to the side. James pulled it closer to check if anything inside had got wet, moving stiffly so he didn’t wake Sirius. As he rummaged through the rucksack, his fingers brushed a cold, sleek surface. He had an idea what it could be.

And really, it was the two-way mirror. So James hadn’t imagined Sirius calling for him after all.

He looked at him. His soft black hair was still damp, and almost as messy as his own. He was slumped against James, all tenseness gone. His face was perfectly still, giving no sign of a nightmare.

James sniffed. Nightmares. He had never had one as bad as Remus had in some nights after the full moon, or Sirius on occasion, when things at home were bad again. James was ashamed to admit it, but judging from what he’d seen, he was silently grateful.

Sirius sighed in his sleep. He opened his mouth a little, giving a faint snore.

James smiled. He put another log into the fireplace and yawned, but didn’t allow himself to fall asleep. If the night terrors did find their way into Sirius’ mind, he would need him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares are terrible.  
> Kudos and comments, however, are wonderful.  
> I miscalculated, by the way, so here's chapter four a day earlier than I'd said.  
> The last chapter I'm going to publish on the thrid of August, no miscalculation this time.


	5. Chapter 5

 But Sirius slept like a baby the whole remaining night through. Outside, the dawn chorus began to strike up their song, and a little later, the first ray of sunshine tickled James’ nose. Yawning again, he scratched it. Sirius was still sleeping, and it didn’t look like he was going to wake up soon. There was a rustle and the faint sound of bottles clinking against each other at the front door. The milkman.

Upstairs, a door opened, and then James heard footsteps. He shifted a little. What would his parents say when they found him and Sirius huddled together in front of the fireplace? He heard his mother come downstairs, take the milk inside, and then coming into the living room. He braced himself.

The door opened. “James?” his mother said, surprised, but he had already put a finger to his lips. He pointed at Sirius next to him, mouthing his name.

His mother, not understanding, frowned at him, so he motioned her nearer. 

She tip-toed over to them, managing just in time to stifle a sound of surprise. She looked at James in startled bewilderment.

He made a few haphazard gestures. He would explain later.

His mother didn’t ask any more questions. She simply nodded and picked up the cups. In the door, she turned around, winking at James.

‘Thank you,’ he mouthed back.

She smiled and quietly left the living room.

Sirius still hadn’t woken up. James wondered what exactly had happened in London that had made Sirius leave at last, and what he had went through to be so exhausted. He looked up when his mother came back, wordlessly handing him a mug of coffee, and putting another one next to Sirius. James grinned. His mother ruffled his hair. “Breakfast will be ready when he wakes up,” she whispered. He gave her a thumbs-up.

The coffee was pitch-black and so strong James almost felt his hair stand on end. He heard muffled voices in the kitchen. His father had got up, and his mother was informing him about their unexpected visitor. James took another sip of coffee.

Suddenly, Sirius stirred, sniffing. He opened his eyes drowsily. “Coffee,” he mumbled, not even truly awake yet.

James handed him the second mug. Sirius took a big swig. The he frowned and looked around. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Around seven? I’m not sure,” James replied.

Sirius sniffed, nodding.

Silence.

“My mother burned your letters.”

Sirius’ words fell like stones into a pond, their impact hitting James only after a few seconds. “What?” he asked in disbelief.

Sirius stared into the fireplace, where only embers burned again. “Yours and Remus’ and Peter’s.” He swallowed. “Took them right out of my hand and chucked them into the fire, going on about all that half-blood and bloodtraitor rubbish.”

James stared at him. Sirius caught his eye and shrugged a little helplessly.

“Merlin’s beard,” James muttered.

Sirius said nothing.

“Breakfast is ready, by the way,” James said after a while.

Sirius’ cheeks went red and he looked away. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, Padfoot?” asked James.

Sirius bit his lips, shaking his head. His blush moved over the bridge of his nose. What had he’d been thinking, dropping down out of the blue like that? “God, I’m so stupid,” he muttered. “Ow!” James had rapped him across the head. “What the hell, Prongs?”

James held his index finger under Sirius’ nose. “Don’t ever say that,” he said, his voice surprisingly earnest. “And don’t you ever think you’re not welcome here!”

Sirius swallowed, rubbing the back of his head.

“Come now,” James said and stood. “You look like you could do with some food.” As if on cue, Sirius’ stomach grumbled. James grinned. “I rest my case.” He pulled Sirius to his feet. “Don’t forget your coffee.”

They went into the kitchen, Sirius behind James and keeping his head down. He was still ashamed.

Mr and Mrs Potter were already at the table. Mrs Potter looked up. “Good morning,” she said with a warm smile.

“Morning, Mum,” James replied and slumped nonchalantly into a chair.

Sirius had stopped in the doorway and tried to be as invisible as possible.

It didn’t work.

Euphemia Potter looked straight at him. “What are you standing there for, Sirius?” she said. “Come, sit down, have some breakfast!”

Sirius swallowed. “I would rather not inconvenience you,” he said quietly, surrounding himself with manners like a protective shield.

“Stuff and nonsense,” Fleamont Potter replied with a dismissive hand wave. “There’s more food than an entire Quidditch team could eat.”

Sirius hesitated, then he shyly sat down next to James. He tried to hold back, but after the first two spoonfulls of Mrs Potter’s porridge with homemade jam, he couldn’t care anymore. The food was so good and rich it put breakfast at Hogwarts to shame.

“Merlin’s beard,” James laughed, “you’re giving Moony a run for his money!”

Sirius grinned with his mouth full of scrambled eggs.

“Mother,” James suddenly asked, “can Sirius stay until school starts again?”

Sirius froze. He didn’t dare looking up from his plate. His heartrate accelerated rapidly.

Mrs Potter’s reply reached him from very far away. “But of course he can!”

He blinked.

James poked him. “Hey, Padfoot, are you still alive?”

Sirius finally managed to tear his gaze away from his breakfast. “Yes, sorry,” he stammered and sat up straight. He cleared his throat. “Thank you very much, Mrs Potter.”

James’ mother laughed. “I’m always happy to have guests around.”

Sirius smiled shyly.

“And what about your other friends?” Mr Potter prompted. “What were their names again?”

“Remus and Peter,” James replied.

“Yes, them. Why don’t you invite 'em over, too?”

James and Sirius exchanged quick glances. “D’you think Remus' parents will let him?” James asked.

Sirius pondered. “It’s two nights from now,” he murmured, raising a meaningful eyebrow. “Maybe for one or two weeks after that?”

“I’ll send him an owl,” James said.

When Sirius finally couldn’t eat any more, he and James helped with the washing up, before they went upstairs. Like Sirius, James had decorated his bedroom with an abundance of banners, scarfs, and flags in the Gryffindor colours. But instead of pictures of motorbikes, the walls were covered with posters about Quidditch: Puddlemere United, advertisements for the latest racing brooms, photographs of various professional players, and, of course, the Gryffindor team.

The room was also a lot messier. Books were stacked everywhere, half-finished homework was piling up on the desk, and James scooped up a heap of clothes lying on the ground as they entered and stuffed it into the wardrobe. “By the way, should I ask my father if he can put one of the guest beds in here? Because the foldable ones are rubbish, stiff as a board.”

“Yeah, sure.”

There was a pause.

“You know, my parents are wondering,” James began.

“You can tell them,” Sirius interrupted.

“Are you sure?” James asked sceptically.

“Sure I’m sure.” Sirius yawned and sat down on James’ bed.

“Are you still tired?” James asked in disbelief, joining him. “What the hell did you do last night?”

“Climbed down the front of our house.”

James looked at him. “You didn’t.”

“Did too.”

“No kidding?”

“Totally serious.”

James laughed out loud and Sirius joined in. He laughed until his eyes watered and his belly ached.

Sirius could finally breathe freely again. He felt like a tree someone had cut the strangling ivy off, like someone who had stooped all his life could straighten up at last.

He had managed to finally leave his family behind.

No, he corrected himself.

He hadn’t.

Because his brother was right here next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it.  
> Thanks to everyone who read this (at the point I'm writing this, it's 113 people - I know it's not much, by AO3 standards, but for me that's mind-blowing, I never guessed so many people would be interested in this thing.)  
> I've got more stuf coming in the near future, mostly more HP fanfiction, but there's also a small Raven Cycle snippet, and an original story I'm currently brushing up.  
> Thanks for every comment and kudo. You guys are the best.  
> (Also headcanon, Remus is a big eater, so that's why James says Sirius is "giving him a run for his money".)  
> (And lastly, I made a typo in every chapter note except the one for chapter 2. Ain't that just the way.)


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